The Marquesa's Necklace (Oak Grove Mysteries Book 1) Page 7

  He didn’t break my heart, not really. What he made me was mad. Mad enough that I took off on an impromptu road trip early the next morning. I turned off my cell phone, threw a few clothes in a bag, filled up the tank, and took off, heading for the interstate and wherever the wind blew me. A black car followed me as I left town, but when I steered onto the entry ramp, it kept going straight. I laughed at my paranoia.

  The gas pedal begged me to push it to the floor, but I stayed within the speed limit. Dolores is a cop magnet, and I didn’t want hassled. The road west is long and fairly flat, and I operated on auto-pilot much of the time, lulled by the hum of the tires on the pavement.

  I spent the night in a small, run-down motel east of Indianapolis, listening to the couple in the next room arguing, and fighting back the urge to gag from the overwhelming stench of stale cigarettes. That and trying to put a major dent in the bottle of cheap rum I bought at the liquor store down the street. I earned the major headache I woke with in the morning.

  After opening a window to try to air out the room, I took a couple of aspirin, washing them down with some of the leftover rum, and went back to bed. When I woke at noon, with nothing better to do, I called the front desk and arranged to spend a second night. I ventured out for supper sometime after seven. Not much was open since it was Sunday evening and I made do with a greasy hamburger from a truck stop, and then returned to the motel.

  Monday morning, I knew it was time to stop wallowing in misery and get on with living. I tossed my dirty clothes back into my bag, dumped the rest of the rum down the sink, and turned on the TV. I waited until the sparse collection of business travelers checked out and what passed for rush hour in the little rat hole of a town was over.

  It was late when I pulled into the garage. The light outside my front door was the only light shining from my place. A narrow beam of brightness leaked from a crack in the curtains in Luke and Joe’s bedroom. Everything appeared normal. I could handle normal. In fact after all the excitement, I craved it.

  But I hesitated as I pushed open my door. I held my breath and listened for the slightest of noises, a faint rustling where it didn’t belong, or the absence of the ticking of my clocks before I flicked on the lights. I didn’t relax until a quick inventory of my front room showed everything where it belonged.

  I locked the door behind me, dropped my bags on the loveseat, headed for the bedroom and flopped down on the bed. I planned to only lie there for a minute and then get up and wash my face. I didn’t plan on falling asleep.

  Morning came with an awful headache, bright sun peeking through my curtains, and a pounding on my door. I considered ignoring it all, covering my head with my pillow, and going back to sleep, but I dragged myself out of bed and into the front room.

  “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I called, and immediately regretted it. It made my head throb even more. I was in desperate need of aspirin. At least the knocking stopped. That helped.

  I opened the door without looking out the peephole first. Big mistake, I know. Detective Thomason would yell at me. I didn’t care. That’s who I expected to see. I was wrong.

  Sarah and Janine pushed through the door, grabbed me, and wrapped me in their arms. I would have fallen, pushed down by their onslaught, if they hadn’t had me trapped between the two of them. “Where have you been? Are you all right? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Are you okay?” The questions came so fast I couldn’t even figure out which one asked what.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine.” I answered as I returned the hugs. “Other than a well-deserved headache. Why?”

  “We’ve been trying to call you and you didn’t answer, didn’t answer your messages, and didn’t respond to our texts.” Sarah pulled back and looked me over. “You look awful. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  My phone. I remembered. I turned it off when I left Saturday morning. I shuffled over to the loveseat, pulled it out of my purse, and turned it on. I thought it would explode as it started beeping madly as all the messages poured in. Grimacing, I turned the volume down and dropped it on the coffee table. “Somebody missed me,” I said.

  “We were worried about you,” Janine told me, shaking her fist at me. “Especially after Detective Thomason’s wreck, and your car and you were gone, and your landlords didn’t have any idea where you went.”

  Wait, what? “Backup. You said Detective Thomason was in a wreck?” Just because I hated him right now didn’t mean I wanted something bad to happen to him. Or maybe I did, but I wanted to be the one to make it happen. “What happened? Is he hurt badly?”

  Janine and Sarah exchanged glances. “No, from what we’ve heard, nothing broken, he’s just badly bruised and shaken up.” Sarah said.

  “And if you had answered your boyfriend’s calls, you would know that,” Janine added pointedly. She liked Detective Thomason.

  I clenched my fists. “He’s not my boyfriend. I’ll explain later.” And maybe not. My conscience was working overtime. Was the accident somehow my fault? “What happened?”

  “The report in the newspaper said somebody ran him off the road.” Janine answered. “It happened Saturday night. The report quoted him as saying it was a black sedan, but it was dark and he couldn’t provide a good description.”

  That explained a lot. I would have expected him to remember more details. “I should go see him.” I said reluctantly. “Is he still in the hospital?”

  Oak Grove doesn’t have much of a hospital. For anything major, you have to go out of town. But the staff can handle bumps and bruises and the occasional broken bone. I reached for my purse. Hopefully I had dropped my keys inside when I got back last night.

  Sarah stopped me. “No, he’s at home. His sister came to take care of him. And you’re not going anywhere looking like that. You’re a mess. Where have you been, anyway?”

  “Indiana. Don’t ask me why.” I ran my fingers through my hair. My bun had fallen out while I slept and tangles had taken over. “I guess I’d better take a shower first.” I was glad he had someone to help him out, but I should go say hi at least.

  After a hot shower, change of clothes, and putting on makeup—Sarah insisted I needed to cover up the dark circles under my eyes—we were on the way to his house. I played copilot because I knew exactly where it was but Janine wouldn’t let me drive her car. I made her stop on the way, and they waited while I bought a bouquet of helium balloons. He wasn’t the kind of guy you give flowers to. Every time I saw a black car, I checked to see if it had any damage that might have been caused by hitting a red car. No surprise, I didn’t spot the offending vehicle.

  The Mustang wasn’t sitting in its usual spot in the driveway. I hoped it hadn’t been totaled. That would break his heart. And it was a nice car. It deserved a long life. Hopefully it was at a body shop getting fixed.

  I forced Sarah and Janine to come in with me, in case his sister was gone. I didn’t want to be alone with him. Gave them the line about needing support. What I was really thinking was that misery loves company.

  A woman I assumed to be his sister answered the door. I based my assumption on the fact she looked enough like him to be his twin. She even had the same look of distaste I have seen on Detective Thomason’s face when he interviews a suspect. But I guess the balloons convinced her we were okay, because after I introduced myself she stepped aside and let us in.

  He was lying on his couch watching TV. A cop show. Surprise, surprise. It must have been a bad one, because he flicked the button on his remote and turned off the set the second we walked in. He looked awful. I mean, really, really terrible.

  One side of his face was all splotchy purple bruises. The bruises extended part of the way down his neck. White tape crisscrossed his nose. Another large bandage covered most of his forehead. I could only guess at the rest of his body, because he had a blanket covering everything except his shoulders, and he wore flannel PJ’s, even though it was early September and still warm.

  In the momentary awkward silence, I t
ried to figure out if there would be a safe spot to kiss him, and if I really wanted to show that much affection. Sensing his sister’s stare, I chickened out and instead handed him the balloons.

  “You look like hell,” I blurted out. I’m not always diplomatic under stress. “Like you had a run-in with a tank or something. Are you going to be okay?”

  “The doctors say I will be sore for a few weeks but should have no permanent damage.” He groaned softly as he used one arm to leverage himself into a more upright position. The balloons floated to the ceiling. “I feel better already knowing you’re safe.”

  He had to go there, didn’t he? I grabbed the strings of the balloons, pulled them back down and tied them to the arm of a nearby chair. “I was out of town,” I explained. “Forgot I had my phone turned off.” I turned to his sister. “By the way, these are my friends Janine and Sarah,” I said. My ploy to get her to stop glaring at me worked as her attention was diverted to the girls.

  Her face softened ever so slightly. “I’m Sylvia. Freddie has mentioned you,” she said, shaking their hands. “Thank you for coming. Can I get you something to drink?”

  We all turned down the offer. “Thanks, but we can’t stay long,” I said. “Janine has to be at work in a little while.”

  We chitchatted for a while, talking about the balloons and other things just as unimportant, until I could tell the gals were getting bored. I was standing close to him as we got ready to leave, and he grabbed my wrist. “Can you come back this afternoon?” he asked. “We need to talk.”

  I smiled at him. “Of course.” I had the feeling that if I told him no, Sylvia wouldn’t let me out of the house. “Anything you want me to bring you?”

  He hesitated, and I was sorry I made the offer. “How about a couple of malts from the Dairy Barn?” he asked. “Sylvia didn’t believe me when I told her how good they are.”

  “Done.” I got out of that one easier than expected. “What flavor do you want?”

  “I don’t know what their special is right now. You choose,” he said. The Dairy Barn is known for coming up with some unique creations—they made bacon milkshakes before anyone else ever dreamed of them. No way would I bring him a basic chocolate treat unless he asked for it, but if they were doing something exotic like grasshopper shakes—with real grasshoppers like they tried last summer—my favorite strawberry-banana combination would be an option.

  That afternoon, once we’d finished off our butterscotch-pumpernickel shakes, Sylvia left to stock up on groceries. She confided to me that Detective Thomason—Freddie—had a typical bachelor’s cupboard. In other words, pretty much empty. She wanted to make sure he wouldn’t go hungry while he recuperated, since she was leaving the next day to get back to her job. I’m sure that was a major hint for me. I pretended not to get it and she didn’t push the issue. Either she wasn’t as much like her brother as I figured, or she planned to work me from a different angle. I didn’t intend to stick around long enough to find out.

  But I did promise to stay until she got back. Freddie was sitting up on the couch and I took a seat beside him while we listened to her car take off down the street. “Harmony,” he started. He paused, waiting for me to interrupt, but when I didn’t, he continued.

  “I need to apologize for Friday night,” he said.

  I avoided his eyes and pretended to pay attention to the soccer game on TV. “I guess you should,” I told him.

  He didn’t try to hide his sigh. “I keep thinking there is something in those postcards that will help us solve this case.”

  “Which case?” I asked a little too sharply. “Are you trying to prove I was selling drugs or do you think Jake has something to do with the attempted mugging? He didn’t even like this necklace!” I fingered the turquoise strand on my neck.

  Even under all the bruising, I saw the red rising in Freddie’s cheeks. “Are you defending him? After all he did to you? Are you still in love with him?”

  I considered it. Jake never did anything bad to me. Not on purpose, anyway. And no, I wasn’t in love with him anymore. None of this was Freddie’s business. But I’m not good with conflict, and I was trying to figure out how to tell Freddie all of that without hurting his feelings. He took my silence the wrong way.

  “You do still love him,” he said, shaking his head. “So why are you here? So you can laugh about stringing me along later?”

  I stopped planning what I wanted to say. “It occurred to me,” I said as I grabbed my purse. “That the reason someone ran you off the road was because they didn’t want you hanging out with me. I felt guilty because I thought it was my fault you got hurt. I thought I could overlook the fact that I caught you sneaking around in my closet when all you had to do was ask and I would have given you the postcards. Was that the only reason you were dating me? So you could look for evidence against me and put me back in jail? Were you laughing behind my back the whole time?” By now I was opening the front door, and he was struggling to stand up. “I can show myself out, Detective. Tell Sylvia I said it was nice to meet her.”

  He started hobbling across the room and I slammed the door shut as I stepped outside. “Don’t get better too fast, asshole,” I said between gritted teeth as I hurried to get into Dolores. I started her engine and gunned it, squealing her tires as I pulled away.

  Chapter Twelve

  I stopped by the cop shop on my way home. I had an agenda, and although I was still steaming, I put on my best fake-smile. The whole honey will get you more than vinegar thing. I recognized the young officer at the front desk, but his name escaped me. From the expression on his face, he remembered me too. Good. I could use that to my advantage.

  “Is Officer Clearmont available?” I asked, attempting to sound sexy.

  He cleared his throat. “No, sorry, he’s out.”

  “Oh dear.” I peered at his name tag. Felton, it read. Ah-ha! “I need a copy of the police report from when my car exploded. The insurance company requested it.”

  “I can help you. Do you have a case number?”

  “No, but the name is Duprie. Harmony Duprie.” I fluttered my eyelashes at him and dropped my voice half an octave. I channeled my inner stripper. Jake had helped me find her. I never wanted to admit she existed before I met him. “Remember, you came to my place to tell me about it.”

  He cleared his throat again. “If you take a seat, I’ll get that for you.”

  “Thank you so much,” I gushed. “While you’re at it, can you get me the one about the break-in too? I should let my renter’s insurance know about it.”

  He nodded. “Be glad to.”

  Then I pulled a Columbo. “Oh, and Freddie—Detective Thomason I mean—wondered if I would bring him the report on his accident. He’s so dedicated, isn’t he? Such an asset to the force.” I’d left my hair down, and flicked it away from my face as I smiled at the policeman.

  Officer Felton didn’t even question my request. “How’s he doing?” the officer asked as he typed away on the keyboard of his computer. The printer hummed, warming up.

  “He seemed tired when I left a few minutes ago,” I giggled. “All worn out and needing a little privacy.” I wasn’t worried about my reputation among the law enforcement officials in town. It had been destroyed some time ago. And I suspected Detective Thomason hadn’t been helping it out recently.

  The printer couldn’t spit out paper fast enough. Officer Felton covered his embarrassment by digging into the file cabinet by the desk and pulling out a couple of manila envelopes. I detected the remains of a blush when he handed the paperwork to me.

  “Tell Detective Thomason we all hope he gets better soon,” Officer Felton said.

  “I will. I’ll try not to delay his recovery too much,” I said, winking and giggling again, sending the blood rushing back to his face. Like an actress collecting an Oscar, I strolled out the door. My prize was contained in the two envelopes clutched in my firm grip.

  I glanced at the report on his incident first, and stru
ck pay dirt. I knew the body shop his Mustang had been towed to; I’d had work done on George there several times. I drove by slowly and caught a glimpse of a red vehicle up on one of their lifts. Good. That meant the car was being repaired. Funny, I liked the car better than the owner.

  The box of postcards still sat on my dresser where I’d left it when I returned home. I carried it to the front room and set it on the coffee table while I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of Riesling. I curled up on the loveseat and contemplated the box, while I sipped the wine. Was I betraying Jake by studying them for a clue to some crime, betraying Freddie by going through them without him, or betraying myself if I didn’t do it?

  I spent an hour or two studying the postcards, remembering the stories Jake told me about the places he’d traveled, and the plans we made to go to some of them together. I allowed myself to cry then, mourning the man I’d loved. That man was dead now as far as I was concerned; and the Jake who sat in a prison cell was a different person.

  Eventually I pulled open my laptop and went to work. I started by listing the locations the cards were from and the date he had been there. A fairly simple spreadsheet, but easy to manipulate if I felt the need. In another column I would list the local newspapers, and the last column would be for police reports. Nothing minor like speeding or jaywalking, although some small town papers listed those sorts of offenses in their police blotters; I was only interested in unsolved crimes.

  Midnight fled by before I gave up the quest, no closer to an answer. No pattern, no crimes that tied together. Maybe Jake had been nothing more than a playboy. No, I didn’t believe that. Why would he have fought so hard when we were arrested if he wasn’t guilty of something? Having sex with women all over the country isn’t a crime, and that’s all the prosecutor proved he was doing.

  The morning brought no new revelations, so I packed up my laptop and went to the library. I had several research projects lined up, and I’d been neglecting my authors. They were willing to give me some leeway, but I didn’t want to push my luck. I set up at a table facing the main doors and hit the card catalog.